Longtime owner Joe Betz of popular House of Prime Rib, a fourty year institution in San Francisco, Calif., showing the meat locker on Wednesday, July 20, 2011.

Photo: Liz Hafalia, The Chronicle

Longtime owner Joe Betz of popular House of Prime Rib, a fourty...

Image 2 of 3

Proprietor Joe Betz (in suit) of the popular House of Prime Rib, a fourty year institution in San Francisco, Calif., makes room for the beef being carried by head chef Doug Braun (right) as he makes his way toward the oven on Wednesday, July 20, 2011.

Photo: Liz Hafalia, The Chronicle

Proprietor Joe Betz (in suit) of the popular House of Prime Rib, a...

Image 3 of 3

The beef is encrusted in salt for several hours at the popular House of Prime Rib, a fourty year institution in San Francisco, Calif., when ready the salt is removed before going into the oven on Wednesday, July 20, 2011.

Joe Betz lowers his 72-year-old frame to the dining room floor at the House of Prime Rib, and slowly drags three fingers across the wood.

"Look at that," he beams, righting himself to reveal the underside of his hand. "It's totally spotless."

To know Betz, the proprietor of this long-standing San Francisco establishment, is to expect this sort of perfection and attention to detail. Against all odds, he's managed to keep his restaurant thriving for decades, despite the fact that its focus - big slabs of beef - is an anomaly in an area best known for menus that change daily and seasonal cuisine.

Betz is constantly tinkering with the interior of the restaurant. His clientele includes high-profile regulars as well as more ordinary folk - locals and tourists - all of whom make for a consistently packed house. And he's exceedingly kind - Betz is big on giving back by offering his time, and food, to those less fortunate.

On Christmas Eve, Betz serves prime rib to thousands, free of charge, at Glide Memorial Methodist Church in the Tenderloin. He donates money to student groups in need. And he plays host on a regular basis, throwing dinners and cocktail parties for athletic teams and the likes of the Blue Angels flight team.

Clearly, his success is about more than just the beef.

"He really just wants to make sure that people enjoy themselves," said San Francisco KGO radio personality Ronn Owens, a longtime customer. Owens has been dining at the House of Prime Rib since the mid-1970s, but when Betz took over in 1985, "he absolutely made it what it is."

It is, as it stands now, a five-room, 178-seat restaurant in the heart of the city on Van Ness Avenue. It's handsomely appointed to resemble a classic, old-fashioned club - yet isn't the least bit exclusive.

"I don't want people coming in and thinking, 'Gosh, how much money will this cost me?' " Betz said.

He aims for an atmosphere that's comfortable and familiar, and that familiarity is key to his success.

Unforgettable meal

Doug Washington, co-owner of the popular restaurants Town Hall, Salt House and Anchor & Hope in San Francisco, said he'll never forget the first time he ate at the House of Prime Rib.

It was 1989, and Washington was working at Wolfgang Puck's Postrio, which had just opened. Betz - who often went to Postrio just to survey the scene - invited Washington and a few others in for a meal.

"Here we were, these young and arrogant guys who thought there wasn't anyone else out there but Stars and Trader Vic's," said Washington. "And (House of Prime Rib) is just mobbed on a Monday."

Over the years, Washington looked to Betz for advice about running a restaurant.

In the case of House of Prime Rib, familiarity first and foremost means the food. There's nothing fussy about it. Betz continued with a menu created under original owner Lou Balaski, but over the years upped the quality of the meat - grain-fed from the Midwest, it should be noted - and added a fish entree. For an all-inclusive $35-$39, diners receive a serving of prime rib, cut from hanging racks in silver domed carts; salad prepared tableside; Yorkshire pudding; creamed spinach or corn; and a baked stuffed potato or mashed potatoes with gravy.

When Betz took over, he said the restaurant was doing 75 dinners a night. Countless upgrades later - kicked off by a $750,000 renovation - an average night is 500.

The original House of Prime Rib opened in 1949, but it would be many years - and numerous restaurant jobs - before Betz would actually buy the place. In 1949, Betz was living in his native Germany and bouncing between foster care and boarding school.

On his own at age 14

Betz glosses over his childhood, only to say that he set out on his own at age 14.

"Things were different then," he recalls, his animated German tongue still unmistakable after all these years. "The war was ending. I got a job in a restaurant because that's all that was available." It was more about survival than anything else.

"In the restaurant industry, if you do a good job, there's always a job," Betz said, dispensing one of the thoughtful pearls of wisdom for which he's become known.

The industry suited him. A waiter at 18, he traveled to Switzerland, worked on a cruise ship, and landed in the United States when he was 20. After working in restaurants up and down the East Coast, he arrived in San Francisco and got a job at a place on Market Street called Hoffman's Grill, which served 400 lunches a day of "dish-out food" - stews, soups and the like.

He started there as a waiter. In 1968, he bought it.

"I was one of the youngest restaurateurs then," he recalled. "Now I'm one of the oldest."

If he's quick to dismiss talk of his childhood, his enthusiasm is palpable when talking about his three grandchildren. And he counts his two grown sons - their mom is ex-wife Heide Betz - as his closest friends. Michael, 39, is a lawyer, and Steven, 35, works in the restaurant alongside Betz, and will probably take the reins.

"I don't just have a good relationship with them," he said. "I have the perfect relationship with them." And it's hard not to believe him - family, after all, is the cornerstone of Betz's clientele.

"We promote having children here," he said. "All of these little babies now, they grow up. They're our next generation of customers."

Betz was raising his own boys while he was still at the Hoffman. At the time, he was also in charge of the food operations at the Transamerica building, and saw an opportunity to bring patrons into the space at night.

" 'Saturday Night Fever' had just come out," Betz said, "and I decided to open a discotheque." The Park Exchange - which had a 12-year run - was a private club. That way, he said, he could control who came in and out.

Stays in the know

That control - and the desire to stay informed - have always been paramount for Betz.

Even now, nightly text messages apprise him of the evening's numbers, and he speaks to Steven first thing each morning for an update.

In an office overlooking the kitchen, Betz takes his post behind the oversize desk, and directs his focus toward two large flat screens. On the left, 12 vignettes show every nook of the restaurant - prep cooks lift troughs of salt-packed meat in one; servers set up for dinner service in another.

Mostly bald save for tufts of white hair above his ears, Betz looks his age. His creased forehead jumps each time he raises his eyebrows. But, like a teenager playing a video game, his fingers dance over the keyboard, typing in the numbers of the scene he wants to enlarge on the adjacent TV screen.

"I have this on my iPad and my computer at home, too," he said with a conspiratorial grin.

Keeps his hand in

He may not be as hands-on at the restaurant anymore - he's certainly not making the rounds out front each night - but because of the cameras, he never truly goes off the grid.

Owens likes to joke that "he's the easiest guy in the world to work for, as long as you do everything perfectly."

Betz recalled the time he was vacationing in Australia. "I woke up one morning, looked at the computer first thing, and there was a prep cook just hiding out in the back," he recalls, laughing. "So of course I called the restaurant to see what he was doing."

But the truth, said Betz, is that he just loves being involved.

That's not to say he doesn't take full advantage of his spare time. His boisterous demeanor and ability to relate to people have resulted in some unique opportunities.

"You ever hear of the war room?" he asked. Pointing to a photo on his office wall, he explains that it's where 49ers management decides who they'll pick during the NFL draft. He's instantly giddy. "I got to go in there once. I was the only non-49er in the room!"

Pointing to another photo, he talks about the time he sailed on an aircraft carrier as it headed out to Iraq, and did a two-day "tiger cruise" - where relatives meet the ship on its way back from deployment - on the other end.

"Joe puts himself in a position where he gets to do a lot of interesting things," said John York, co-owner of the San Francisco 49ers. "He reaches out to other people expecting nothing in return," but because he's so genuine, York explains, people want to do something for him - like that chance to visit the "war room."

Hosts Niners' linemen

Yet it works both ways.

Betz holds an annual dinner for the 49ers offensive line. And when the Blue Angels fly through the city each October, Betz throws a cocktail reception at his house on Nob Hill. In fact, they've made him an honorary member, though he swears he'd never fly with them. "I'm not dumb enough to do that," Betz said.

He's the quintessential host, but his generosity goes beyond that.

Betz recalls a time when he was watching a newscast about a group of students who were traveling in Guatemala to build a house. Their bus was robbed and all of their money and supplies were gone in an instant. Unable to continue their work, they'd have to come home.

That is, until Betz called the TV station and offered to replace their money. A thank-you card with a photo of the kids - addressed to Señor Betz - sits in the office as a reminder.

But perhaps his most rewarding philanthropic event is the one he does each year with Glide Memorial Church.

"I remember getting a call from him saying that he wanted to do something that mattered," said the Rev. Cecil Williams of Glide. "He said, 'I want to give something to the people who stand in line. And what I have is beef.' "

Gives a ton to Glide

That was 20 years ago. Betz donated 1,400 pounds of prime rib, plus all the fixings, to serve for lunch on Christmas Eve. He's provided that meal every year since. His contribution is now 2,000 pounds, which Williams says feeds at least 3,000 hungry people.

"I've never seen anyone criticize that luncheon," Williams said. "They're so happy, it's like they move to another zone."

Betz plans to continue what is now a Christmas Eve tradition, and has no plans to slow down otherwise. He keeps up with things on his iPad, and is currently engaged to longtime companion Marion Olin of Sausalito.

"I won't retire, I'll expire," he said, completely serious.

As long as Betz is at the helm - and for decades after, if he has his way - the House of Prime Rib will feel welcoming and familiar. The beef will always be some of the best in town.